


JWP 2020 #13: Cold Woulds

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Injury, Prompt Fic, Snippet, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: Watson contemplates which would be the better of his dismal choices. Written for JWP #13 over on Watson's Woes.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: Watson's Woes JWP Collection: 2020





	JWP 2020 #13: Cold Woulds

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** : OMG, such a terrible pun in the title. I'm so very sorry. I have no idea what came over me. Also Watsonian whumpage. What can I say, it's July. This is more of a snippet than a complete piece, but sometimes that's just how the prompts roll. And written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
>  **Prompt** : A picture of a pine forest on a cold morning.

It was morning at last. I could see the early light streaming down through the trees, gleaming off of the snow and frost that rimed the ground. The light fall had covered any tracks and traces I might have left last night. It had been my friend then, but it would be my foe now, marking out my trail if I dared stir from my refuge.

That was a grand name for the crazed jumble of stones I’d stumbled across. It was hard to know if it was actually a ruin or an architectural folly meant to look like one which had fallen into disuse. Whichever, it had a small space inside, large enough for me to fit, but cramped enough to help conserve my body heat once I’d squeezed into it. Its meagre shelter, along with my thick wool clothes, had probably helped save my life. 

It was anyone’s guess whether I could manage to leave it on my own. My wound had stiffened considerably. It was no longer bleeding, but moving might open it again, and I could ill afford to lose any more blood.

It would be better to stay. And it would be worse. The cold made it hard to think, to decide.

Holmes would be searching for me by now, I was sure. But so would the Curtises, and they knew these woods better than he. If I stayed, they were much more likely to find me than my friend. If I tried to find my way out of the woods and back to the village, I’d leave traces that would be equally understandable to anyone who came across them – friend as well as foe.

Groaning, I started the painful process of extricating myself.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 13, 2020.


End file.
